The Beginning of the END
by always-thegirlonFIRE
Summary: "I hear the cannon and a sense of relief floods through me. I've done it. I've won the Hunger Games." Haymitch's POV, through from his victory in the arena to his arrival at home. Please read and review!


*Warning: there is a little bit of swearing

I hear the cannon and a sense of relief floods through me. I've done it. I've won the Hunger Games.

The Capitol isn't going to be happy with me though. I've shown them up; using their petty force field against my last competitor, one of the girls from District One. I don't remember her name, there were so many tributes I couldn't possibly remember all 47 names. Except for Maysilee. Poor, poor Maysilee. The only other person who I would have wanted to have won the Games if I had been killed. The one who saved me from a Career tribute about to slit my throat, the one who bothered to come along with me to the edge of the arena, and the one whose life ebbed away as I clutched her hand tightly.

I lie convulsing on the ground, whilst holding my own guts inside my body. The girl from One is a few metres away from me with an axe embedded in her forehead, her last expression of pure shock on her bloodied face. Claudius Templesmith's triumphant voice booms over the arena along with the victory trumpets and anthem, 'Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the victor of the 50th Annual Hunger Games; Haymitch Abernathy of District 12!'

A hovercraft appears above me and freezes me in some kind of electric current and lifts me up towards it. The last thing I see before I black out is Capitol doctors swarming over me.

I wake in a hospital bed with tubes sprouting out from everywhere on me.

I'm genuinely surprised that they have kept me alive. I could have "accidently" died from the state I was in on my way to wherever I am now, since I have defied the Capitols power by using the force field as a weapon. And for it to be me, a cocky and rebellious sixteen-year-old boy from District 12, I've definitely done some damage.

My last days in the Capitol fly by; Caesar's interview goes well, I explain that the money will really help my mother and brother, as my father died of a terrible illness six years ago, and to save my skin I say I only used the force field against that girl (whose name was Emerald, Caesar tells me) was because I had to get back to my them and my girl Lillia.

When President Snow places the Victor's crown on my head; his snake-like eyes bore into mine, silently telling me that I will not get away with what I have done.

The train ride home seems a lot longer than what it was on the way there. Then again the only people to comfort me now are the Capitol attendants and my bitch of an escort Laskia.

I arrive at my new home in the Victors Village exactly two weeks after my victory in the arena. The whole house could fit in at least ten of the little squalor houses I used to dwell in with my mother and younger brother Hilder in the Seam.

The second I walk in the house I collapse in a heap. Not because I lost consciousness, but because of the three dark-haired bodies hanging limply by their necks in the hallway. A shock of recognition comes through me. These people are the only three people I've ever truly loved.

'No, no, no, no, no, no... Fuck! FUCK!' I repeat over and over again, gradually getting louder until I'm screaming it. No-one comes to check on me, to see why I'm screaming at the top of my lungs.

I cut my mother's rope free first with a knife that I've learnt to keep with me; and I begin to cradle her lifeless body in my arms, my tears splashing down on her still slightly rosy cheeks, the last look of despair in her grey eyes. I think of all my memories I've had with her; helping Erik grow up, who is now hanging beside me, trading her spun wool at the Hob, and just generally doing anything to help each other out.

I gently close her eyes and then cut down my brother's rope. Hilder, poor little Hilder. All of his wishes and dreams, his entire life cruelly taken away from him at such a young age. He'll never grow up to find a girl, marry her, have children, and perhaps have done something good for this rotten world that we live in. He was smart, you know. His black curly hair is covering his eyes. I leave him this way, as I don't think I could bear looking at his eyes. I lay his head back on the ground carefully as if he were simply just asleep.

I cut Lillia free last, preparing myself for the worst. I hold her body close to mine own, which is wracked with sobs. Her crystal blue eyes stare into nothingness, death taking away the sparkle that always used to shine whenever she smiled. I stroke her hair, memories flooding back of all the times I did that exact same motion. A tear that was shed long ago is rolling down her cheek. She didn't deserve this Out of all people Lillia did not deserve this fate. I close her eyes with my fingertips I'm about to lay her down when I realise that in her hands she's holding a flower.

A perfect, snow-white rose.


End file.
